


Prove It

by Conatum



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Hutch has an italian kink, M/M, but no! Its more fluff!, it looks like theres gonna be angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9652499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conatum/pseuds/Conatum
Summary: Hutch doesn't believe Starsky when his partner claims he can speak Italian. In trying to prove his point, Starsky may let his emotions get the better of him.





	

“No man, no! No you can’t do that! Stop it!” Hutch shouted angrily.

Starsky shifted and looked up at the blonde from where his head rested comfortably in his buddy’s lap. He closed the book he was reading, putting it down on his chest. “Hutch, stop yelling at the television, I’m reading here.”

“Starsky, you can’t tell me not to yell at the t.v., it’s my t.v.” Hutch looked down at his partner. They don’t really know how they ended up in such a comprisable position, but neither of them was in a hurry to move. Being this comfortable around each other wasn’t strange to them anymore, just second nature.

“Hutch, you can’t even understand them, it’s all in Italian.” Starsky turned to look at the soap opera Hutch was watching.

“Starsky, I’m intelligent, I can follow the plot without knowing what their saying.” Hutch defended himself.

“Really?” Starsky looked up at his partner “Well, mister smarty pants, if you could actually understand them you would know that Donya left him, Giuseppe, because she’s pregnant with his son, but also knows Aldo is out to kill it because he thought it was his, so she left to protect Giuseppe, and to find her brother Renzo, who ran away with her best friend Cira.” Starsky smirked at Hutch and picked up his book. Hutch thought for a moment before slowly pulling the book down to look his partner in the eye.

“Starsk?”

“Hm?”

“Starsky, how did you know that?” Hutch muted the t.v, while staring dumbfounded at the man in his lap.

“Because I speak Italian, you numb skull.” He said, throwing the book on the coffee table.

“I don’t believe you.” Hutch, still staring at Starsky. 

“Too bad, because I do.” Starsky patted him on the cheek twice and jumped up, sauntering over to the kitchen. Hutch stared at the television for a minute before shutting it off and following him. He found his partner looking disgustedly in the fridge. “Hutch, all this stuff is green. Green. Do you have normal food?” 

“Starsk?”

“Yeah?” He responded, pulling a beer out of the door.

“You’ve never mentioned it before. I didn’t know. That you spoke Italian that is.”

Starsky shrugged “Most people don’t.” He winked at his partner, “But hey, what can I say, I’m just talented.” He smiled and took a swig of beer.

“I still don’t believe you.” Hutch sat on the table in front of Starsky, leaning forward.

“Why not?” Starsky put his beer on the table, and leaned his hands on either side of Hutches legs, looking oh so innocent.

“Well, no offense, but you just don’t seem like the kind of person who speaks different languages.” Hutch shrugged.

“Hutch, that is really stupid.” He thought for a moment, before adding “And insulting.”

“And besides Starsk, Italian is the language of love and romance, and you’ve never been very, well, romantic.” Hutch reasoned with him.

“Hutch, the ability to be romantic has nothing to do with speaking Italian. Being able to speak Italian causes the illusion of romantic ability.” Starsky explained, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh really.” Hutch seemed unimpressed.

“Yes. Really.” Starsky answered simply.

“Okay than.” Hutch leaned in towards Starsky, “Prove it.” Starsky squinted at Hutch

“Really?”

“Yeah. Prove it.” Hutch leaned back “Seduce me.” he joked. Starsky smirked and began walking back to the living room. 

“C’mere.” Starsky motioned to Hutch, still standing in the kitchen. Hutch smiled, playing along with Starsky’s goofy mood. 

“Sit down.” Hutch sat down on the couch next to his partner. Starsky moved closer, slowly resting his arm around the other man’s shoulders.

“You gonna start soon---“ 

“Shhh it takes me a moment to get into it.” Starsky held a finger to Hutch’s lips, silencing him. He didn’t look at Hutch, instead staring intently at the floor. “Okay” he removed his finger, looking back up at Hutch. “What do you want me to say?”

Hutch smirked “How ‘bout some poetry.” 

Starsky smiled, obviously pleased. “Agevole.”

Hutch jerked back a bit, surprised at the sudden change. Starsky looked down, thinking for a moment. Hutch watched him as his expression softened. He could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. Starsky thought for a bit of what he wanted to say. He had memorized his grandmother’s favorite poem when he was a little kid, so he could recite it to her while she was in the hospital. He never really knew what it meant. The topic was such a foreign thing to him, until he grew up. He looked at Hutch, the man who had shared so much of his life. But it was his favorite poem. And it was Hutch. It was a chance worth taking. Starsky took a deep breath, and began.

“Era il giorno ch'al sol si scoloraro, per la pietà del suo factore i rai, quando ì fui preso, et non me ne guardai, chè i bè vostr'occhi, donna, mi legaro.” Starsky met Hutches eyes, barely moving. “Tempo non mi parea da far riparo, contra colpi d'Amor: però m'andai, secur, senza sospetto; onde i miei guai, nel commune dolor s'incominciaro.” 

Starsky shifted, kneeling on the sofa next to his partner, leaning over Hutch, hand resting on the crook of his neck, thumb gently stroking the edge of his collar. “Trovommi Amor del tutto disarmato, et aperta la via per gli occhi al core, che di lagrime son fatti uscio et varco.” Hutch sat, transfixed over the change in Starsky. He could here in Starsky’s voice the emotion and climax of the poem. “Però al mio parer non li fu honore, ferir me de saetta in quello stato, a voi armata non mostrar pur l'arco.”

Hutch stared in amazement at the passion that filled Starsky’s voice, rise and fall, the words rolled off his tongue with the ease English did. He sounded so sincere, whatever he was saying, it was one of the most heartfelt things he must have ever heard him say. “Starsk…” Hutch was embarrassed to find his throat had closed up. He sniffed and tried to start again. “Starsk---” but his partner cut him off

“Hutch. Intendevo ogni parola di quella. Bene, tranne la parte della signora. Ma il resto, hutch, non so forse è stupido ma. Oh Dio. Cosa mi sono cacciato.”  
Starsky stood, turning away from Hutch, getting angry and voice rising,

“La sua colpa tua, Hutch, colpa tua. E gli occhi stupidi e capelli e il viso e le abitudini alimentari, chi cazzo ha quella roba molto verde nella loro cucina Hutch! Idiota che è sempre lì per me. Anche quando sono stupido e non sono d'accordo su questo, perché so, io sono stupido ed egoista e non merito niente come te hutch. I-“

Hutch stood shaking him “Starsk, I can’t understand you, you idiot, stop!” Starsky stood, breathing heavily. “Starsk,” Hutch cupped Starsky’s face with his hand, mimicking the position Starsky had a few seconds ago. “What was all that?”

Starsky sighed, blushing in embarrassment, “I’m sorry, sometimes I, um, when I do the Italian, I uh, I vent.” Hutch laughed and pulled his head to rest of his shoulder. Starsky brought his arms around Hutches waist, resting his head against the soft cotton of his partner’s shirt.

“Wanna tell me what you said?” Hutch whispered into his partners black, frizzy curls. Starsky nodded into his shoulder.

“I told you I meant it.” His voice was muffled in Hutches shoulder.

“Meant what?”

Starsky pulled back, refusing to look Hutch in the eye. “The poem,” he mumbled, looking down at his shoes.

“Starsk, it was beautiful, but I have no idea what you said.” Hutch stepped forward, catching the other man’s arm, “Starsky. What is it?”

Starsky shook his head, “It’s stupid.” He pulled away, “It was a stupid thing to say.”

Hutch tightened his grip on Starsky’s arm, “Please.”

Starsky glanced up at Hutch and, with one last sigh, began the poem in English.

“It was the day the sun's ray had turned pale, with pity for the suffering of his Maker, when I was caught, and I put up no fight, my lady, for your lovely eyes had bound me.” Starsky began, reciting the poem in English. Although he did not turn back to Hutch, he placed his hand atop Hutches, still on his arm. “It seemed no time to be on guard against Love's blows; therefore, I went my way, secure and fearless-so, all my misfortunes began in midst of universal woe.”

He spoke with the same passion he had a moment ago, but quieter, as if he was ashamed of what he was saying now that his partner could understand him. “Love found me all disarmed and found the way was clear to reach my heart down through the eyes, which have become the halls and doors of tears. It seems to me it did him little honor, to wound me with his arrow in my state and to you, armed, not show his bow at all.”

Starsky’s voice caught in his throat, as he met Hutch’s light blue eyes. His throat closed in fear-he had disgusted Hutch, what the hell was he thinking, why did he do that- “I’m sorry Hutch, I’m so sorry-”

“Me too.” Hutch grabbed Starsky, pulling him back. “I should have asked you to speak Italian a long time ago.” 

With that, Hutch stepped forward, crashing their lips together. Starsky stood for a moment in shock before reaching up and clutching Hutches collar, deepening the kiss. It was good, surprising, but good. They were used to kissing girls with soft cheeks and fake tasting lipstick, not each other, someone one with dry lips and strong jaw. Starsky pulled back, giggling. 

“Am I that bad a kisser?” Hutch grinned, resting their foreheads together. 

“It’s not that, it’s just the uh,” Starsky rubbed the back of his hand along Hutch’s jaw “Stubble.” He grinned, closing his eyes as Hutch kissed his jaw.

“You know, the whole speaking another language thing,” Hutch began softly, “that’s, uh, that was pretty good.” 

Starsky’s hands lowered, toying with the hem of his shirt. “You mean sexy, don’t ya.” He grinned, sliding his hands into Hutch’s back pockets. “Ben arrivati in camera da letto e possiamo experimant po 'tantino più con quell'idea.”

Hutch licked his lips, hands pulling Starsky’s collar, “I have no idea what you said, but I think we should got to the bed room right now.”

Starsky kissed Hutch’s neck “Oh, quando si prende il comando come quello che ottengo tutto frizzante...”

Hutch swallowed, pulling Starsky into the bed room “You are going to be the death of me.” 

Starsky just winked at him and closed the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I myself am not fluent in Italian, so this is all google. Here's a rough translation of what Starsky says after the poem:
> 
> Hutch. I meant every word of that. Well, heh, except the lady part. But the rest, Hutch, I don't know maybe it's stupid but. God. What have I gotten myself into.  
> Its your fault, Hutch, your fault. It's your stupid eyes and hair and face and eating habits, who the fuck has that much green stuff in their kitchen Hutch! you idiot who is always there for me. Even when I'm stupid and don't disagree on this because I know, I am stupid and selfish and I don't deserve anything like you hutch. I-
> 
> If you have any corrections on the Italian let me know! And again, comments are always appreciated :)


End file.
